Welcome to our Team's Homepage

We're trying to reach our goal of raising $5,000 for cancer research. This week, we'd love to meet our goal of raising $500. If we accomplish that, Ana will go to her regular stylist, Irma Acosta of Salon Meritage, and get her hair bleached and dyed purple in time for our Vegas ride on September 22nd.

We're hosting a fun, casual, family-friendly fundraising BBQ in our backyard. If you HATE cancer but love burgers, beer & hanging out with great people, this is your kind of partay!

In honor of my mother, Nancy Beatriz Cholo, and in memory of our friend Gregg Gallagher, we're training for a 122-mile bike ride in Vegas on September 22nd and raising money for the Leukemia & Lymphoma Society (LLS) as members of Team in Training. You can also donate directly to our team at www.AnaEdBikeVegas.com.

We'll be raffling off a bunch of great stuff, including a one night stay at the beautiful Pacific Inn in Seal Beach, an entry to next year's Seal Beach 10k, a spa pedicure, restaurant gift cards and much, much more!

There's a suggested donation of $15 per person, which includes a burger, chips and soft drink or water. Beer and alcohol will also be available.

As part of our training for Vegas, we successfully completed our first 100-mile-long "Century" ride on Saturday. Our longest ride before that was less than 65 miles, and I felt a great sense of accomplishment. But, still ahead, is our 122-mile Las Vegas ride in September, with the desert heat and the hills of Red Rocks looming for us at the end of that ride.

No, Vegas won’t be easy but I am confident we will conquer it just like we conquered the Cool Breeze Century a few days ago. We have a lot of folks to thank for that. The coaching, training and mentoring we’ve received from Team in Training during the past 13 weeks have been phenomenal.

For instance, in our approach to this ride, we learned how to employ strategy:

Don’t burn up all of your energy in the beginning. Ride at a more moderate pace. Don’t worry about the cyclists flying by because many will be puking and wasted by mile 70. All comforting thoughts as we kept our eyes on the prize.

We were strong up the hills, we blew past most of the rest stops and we kept up a consistent pace that got faster at the end. It got so fast that at 80 miles in I looked up and realized Ana was gone. I’m not sure how she got ahead but I could barely see her purple Team in Training jersey. She was flying. Someone later joked that the devil got inside her. Then I lost sight of her completely -- for the next 15 miles.

I wasn’t sure whether to speed up or slow down. Gary, one of our TNT coaches, was behind me somewhere. I started to wonder if we were going to cross the finish line together so I powered up and caught up with her just a couple of miles before the end.

That day, Ana demonstrated to me how strong a rider she is and how dedicated she can be. We’re both getting stronger. We’ve already seen how our training enables us to add more hills and distance each week. Sure, I was starving at the end of Saturday’s ride and my feet hurt but I felt a sense of accomplishment. We were doing this. Together.

Our Garmin bike computer near the finish line showed just over 99 miles. Was it because we skipped a few rest stops? No way, we couldn’t have that.

To make up that fraction of a mile we meandered further up on the bike path until we got to the coveted number on our bike computer. When people saw us arriving at the finish line from the wrong direction they thought we had missed the entrance or made a wrong turn. They were wrong. We had the finish line in our sights the entire time. And, together, we rode in feeling good and smiling big, happy smiles.

Now here's where we need your help. Could you please make a donation to our team to help us reach our fund-raising goal for cancer research, as part of The Leukemia & Lymphoma Society's Team In Training (TNT)?

It's all for a great cause, and it's very easy, too. All you have to do is click on the “Donate to Team” link to the right and follow the simple instructions.

During our ride in Malibu today, our teammate got hit by a car. He was taken by ambulance to the hospital and released a few hours later - bruised but not shaken. He was in his usual great spirits judging by his Facebook posts and photo and he is already planning to be back in the saddle for this weekend's Cool Breeze Century ride out of Ventura.

Ed and I will be doing 100 miles. Our teammate Carl is going for 122 miles. Oh, and did I mention he had cancer and that he is one of the speediest riders on our team?

I'm so impressed with my Team in Training family! Each one of us have a story to tell of why we're riding, who we're riding for, why cycling is helping to heal us and why we are willing to push our bodies to the limit. I hear of these stories and they inspire me to keep climbing up those dreadful hills, even when my legs are begging me to stop.

As for my story, it's still too new. I don't know what the future holds. I think of how cancer is eating away at my mom's body and I feel powerless to do anything about it. I'm sure a lot of other people feel the same way. What can we do to beat this thing?

Well, I'm not a doctor or a researcher. I'm just a regular person who can ride and help raise some money for a cure. For my mom, for Carl, for my former co-worker Arlease and countless others.

My latest Huffington Post piece ran on Friday, July 20. A few days earlier, my mother was diagnosed with lung cancer. In my mind, I'm now riding against all forms of cancer. ~Ana

It was mile 43 of a 56-mile ride and I was very slowly climbing up a hill on a sunny 90-degree Southern California day. Next to me was Megan Olson, a team captain for the Leukemia and Lymphoma's (LLS) "Team in Training" program. She was prodding, cajoling and encouraging me to get to the top of La Tuna Canyon after I had already spent hours riding the hills of Mulholland Drive high above Los Angeles.

Megan, of course, was riding effortlessly. I was out of breath and thinking I was going to keel over any second. Meanwhile, my brain was telling me to "shut the eff up" and stop being such a wimp. My brain would then remind me of how cancer patients are more than willing to endure agonizing treatments just to get a shot at life. That same brain instructed my legs to keep pedaling. My tired legs obliged.

I'm training for a 122-mile bike ride in Las Vegas in September. While trying to get in shape I'm also fundraising for cancer research, specifically for LLS. In exchange for excellent training and coaching, I'm tasked with raising money. I'm riding in memory of my friend, Gregg Gallagher, who passed away from cancer last year, just five months after being diagnosed.

Then, earlier this week, my mother was diagnosed with lung cancer, so the event, to me, has taken on even greater meaning. In my mind I'm training and will be fighting against all forms of cancer during this ride.

When I finally made it up to the top of the hill that day, I had cold water thrown at me amidst the cheers of some of my TNT teammates who were waiting for me. I survived that five-hour ride in the saddle a few weeks ago, and other subsequent ones, and I jokingly thanked Megan for relentlessly bullying me all the way up and not letting me just drop my bike, find a shady spot along the side of the road and take a nap (my fantasy during that stretch of the ride).

I joke that I am redefining the word "fun." It's now synonymous with the torture, pain and suffering cyclists encounter while climbing hills. I've grown to love it, weirdly enough.